


Microfic rambles

by Wrathofscribbles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2019-11-23 17:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 5,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18154949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: Dumping ground for FFXV microfics.Multiple characters, multiple pairings.





	1. Bitter - Ignis/Noctis

**Author's Note:**

> **Big bold reminder that Final Fantasy XV and all of its content is property of Square Enix.** I just like to play in the sandpit they've created for the fans.
> 
> Check chapter titles for pairings, and notes for warnings.

Ceramic mug, not metal.

Black, no milk, no sugar.

Bitter on his lips, his tongue.

A double helping before he can function in the mornings.

Noctis thinks he's never tasted sweeter.


	2. Eyes - Prompto/Noctis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter warning: Character death**

Eyes like the sky, so playful and bright.

Eyes of the sea, bottomless and hiding a thousand secrets.

Eyes like Hellfire, glinting blood red and righteous fury.

Eyes so dark, so tired, their vigil at an end under the brush of his lips.

"Rest now, Noct.  The fight's over," Prompto whispers, on his knees and already grieving, and the last King of Lucis takes one final breath.


	3. Sakura - Prompto/Noctis

A moment in time, their first breath of peace after decades of war.

Blanket beneath and basket at their knees, plans for lunch set aside in favour of this.

Prompto's head on his chest, counting his heartbeats, and Noctis gazing between sun-bleached hair and sakura blossoms swaying in the breeze above.

What he'd give for pen and paper, if only to draw his love with a blush on cheek and petals tucked like whispers behind his ears.


	4. Gimme - Prompto/Noctis

"Gimme a break."

"Gimme a kiss."

"Gimme a minute."

And isn't  _that_ what Prompto's always asking for?  Time?  If only he'd known what the future had in store, he'd have asked for a lifetime _more_.

But it's too late now, death chasing dawn across the horizon and Noct is so still in his arms, so heavy, every breath laboured and weakening.

"Gimme a kiss," he rasps, and who is Prompto to deny him?  Who is Prompto to shy away from the blood on his lips?

* * *

He comes awake with a start, dark room and dark sky outside, thinks for one horrible second that it's all been a dream and the endless night isn't over -

Fingertips on his back, warm and soothing, tracing the stories of his scars.  Scruff on his cheek as Noctis leans over, plants a kiss there and along his jaw and down his neck and on his shoulder.

"'S okay, Prompto.  Just a nightmare," he says, soft and easy and very much  _alive._

 


	5. Manifests - Ignis/Noctis

Blue phantoms on the edge of his vision, caught in a swirl of embers.

There when he sleeps, voices too low for him to hear properly, though he thinks they might be bickering.

Skin prickling under the silent scrutiny, the weapons clasped loosely at their sides, and he wonders... have they finally come to collect his life?

Of course then the Rogue's head and painted smile manifests out of the mirror shortly after he's stepped out of the shower.  Yes, Ignis might yell as he hurtles backward, might summon his daggers a heartbeat after flinging his toothbrush at her face.  Yes, his heart might be galloping a mile a minute in the cage of his ribs as Noctis warps through the door and turns it to a rain of splinters in his haste.

And yes, he might lose all grip on his sanity as his back impacts the nearest wall and he slides down it with a gasping laugh when Noctis blinks, blue eyes once more, and awkwardly waves at the ghost plaguing their journey.

"Uh.  Hi, Auntie."

"Are your ancestors trying to kill me, Noct?"

"What?!  No!"

"Then, sincerely,  _what in the everloving fuck is going on?"_

"They uh.  They're uh.  Kinda.  Saying hello?"

_"Why?"_

"Well.  You did jam on the ring.   _The_ ring.  You couldn't have declared yourself my boyfriend any louder, y'know."

_"As if kissing you wasn't enough?"_


	6. Regrets - Nyx/Cor

He's got a list of regrets wound tight round his chest, cutting off air and breaking his heart.  Not spending that last day with his Ma, right at the top, right beside dropping Selena's hand for only a minute.  Not fighting hard enough, not moving fast enough, surviving when so many died.

He's got a list of regrets, but loving Cor isn't one of them.


	7. Wild - Gladio/Noctis

_This is the power of Kings,_ he thinks, red-eyed malice and predator's grace.  Nature itself a weapon of war and death on every touch.  Noctis turns to him with skin burnt and glowing, embers on every exhale, teeth needle sharp in a too-wide smile and he's too  _feral_ to be called Prince.

But it's Noctis,  _his_ Noct, stepping up to the plate and laying waste to their foes and Gladio goes to his knees.

Fingertips on his cheek, like fire and ice, painful and not, following the line of his jaw and gripping hair tight.

Noctis yanks and  _demands_ and Gladio bares his throat, offers surrender, tastes darkness and ash on his tongue.

_This is the power of Kings_ , he thinks, this wild and dangerous thing, and while daemons are right to fear it  _he_ knows better, pulls Noctis closer to return every kiss and bite.


	8. Basement - Noctis & Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fully intended for this to be shippy! And then... this... happened instead.

At first he's wary when Noctis suggests a trip down to the basement levels.  The  _bowels_ of the Citadel, just to see what dirty little secrets might be hidden there.  A shiver might just work its way up his spine at the mere mention of  _secret passages_ because, yeah, on one hand they're cool but  _on the other..._ tight spaces,  _confined_ places, pitch black and -

But Noctis thinks of that.  Noctis remembers his aversion to the dark, doesn't make any kind of fuss when he lifts his hand and sends embers dancing along his fingers, breathes them into a merry flame he cradles in cupped palm, illuminating their path.  He snickers when Prompto's fingers find home in the waistband of his jeans, but not from ridicule, no, not when he squirms and bursts into full laughter.   _Ticklish_ as always.

"You gonna chain me down here, Noct?  For your eyes only?"

"Don't tempt me.  Nobody would be able to hear you scream down here.  Could have you all to myself for days and begging for mercy and we wouldn't be  _disturbed."_

Except - they  _are_.  They come out into a cavern of some sort and Noctis doesn't even have a second to look over his shoulder, ask if he's alright, before Prompto's biting down on a scream and dragging him backward, hand plunging into the ether for his gun as the  _thing_ in the shadows stirs.

Metal on metal, an unholy shriek,  _chains_ , and it's not a thing at all.  It's a  _man_ , drawing away from the light Noct's fire casts, hissing and spitting and clawing at his restrains, Scourge making tear tracks down his face and bubbling in the torn corners of his mouth.

_"What the fuck?!"_

* * *

The man manages to speak eventually, after weeks of medical attention and proper rest and careful intake of food and fluids.  He picks up the basics of the modern tongue during those weeks.

He tells them he's old, ancient even.  He tells them he's been chained up for millennia, forgotten and left to rot.  He tells them of a lover's death and brother's betrayal.  He tells them his name is Ardyn.

 


	9. Sweet - Nyx/Ignis

"Don't judge a book by its cover," his Ma used to say, ever her warning before he marched off to the woods in his father's shadow.  Sound advice for all the snarling beasties waiting to rip the legs out from under him, the dusky blooms with their pale blue throats Selena would surely love... with poison in every petal and thorn.

"Don't judge a book by its cover," his Ma used to say, and the last time he did Crowe knocked him out for the count before he could finish calling her a scrappy little twig.

"Don't judge a book by its cover," his Ma used to say, and only her wisdom keeps Nyx on his toes when he and Luche move forward to engage Scientia for a practice spar, to see what fire he hides under starched shirt and shiny shoes.

It's easy enough to settle into the rhythm of battle, a little cocky and much too confident, and just when he thinks they're wearing Scientia down, guard faltering and providing an opening, just when he's certain they'll get first blood and victory...

He summons a dagger from the Armiger.  Flips it straight up and times the descent just right to catch the hilt on his toes, _kicks_ it with deadly accuracy right for Luche's face.   _Oh_ , Nyx thinks,  _oh shit._

Then, when Luche blocks and nicks his arm on the blade:  _holy shit._

And finally, when Ignis finds him staring with mouth flapped open in mute amazement, when Ignis  _smirks_ :  _I'm fucking doomed_.  Right before the smug fuck knocks him flat on his ass with a lightning bolt to the chest.

Still, the taste of defeat is sweet indeed when he gets a phone number tucked under his belt at the end of it.


	10. Breakfast - Prompto/Ignis

Heart like a jackhammer,  _bambambam_ , lungs working overtime,  _can't breathe can't breathe not enough air,_ and his legs are jelly.  Not enough strength left in them to carry his weight and he crashes into his door, key skipping over the lock and scoring a mark into the wood.  Not the first, sure, but definitely the  _worst_.

_Astrals_ but he's a mess, jittery as a June bug, a bundle of nerves and cresting panic.  No regrets about last night on his side but... what about Ignis?  Would he still be inside?  Would he have seen the note he left about his morning run and taken the chance to bolt?  Did they ruin a friendship?  Has  _he_ ruined a friendship?  How can he possibly look Ignis in the eye again and hang out with Noctis if he has?  What -

He stops, just as suddenly as he did when Gladio clobbered him in the face with his shield last week, breath leaving him in one fractured puff as he pitches against the kitchen doorframe and stares.  Ignis  _stayed_.  Ignis is  _waiting for him_.  All sleep-mussed hair and bleary eyes and clad in just a pair of boxers, cheek smooshed on folded arms as he blinks in Prompto's direction and offers him such a gentle smile it turns Prompto's heart to mush.

"I would've made you breakfast, but I didn't know when you'd be back."

"I don't care," Prompto croaks, and he trips over his own feet to get to Ignis faster and drag him up for a kiss, daring to laugh against his mouth when Ignis does.   _They're alright._


	11. Thunderstorms - Gladio/Noctis

He remembers a time when he was a little boy, roused by the ominous rumble of thunder overhead, when nature pit itself against the King’s might… and _won_.  He remembers looking out his bedroom window with a solitary blanket as protection against the hell outside, eyes fixed on the dark sky and its snarling clouds and wincing with every flash of lightning as it plunged for the Wall.  He remembers the sound of it, like a distant explosion going off, and the plume of sparks every impact threw into the air, the sheer determination of whatever _will_ was out there to get _through_ , to get _in_.  And then it did.  A shudder through those protective plates, their shimmer glowing bright and then winking out of existence as they fell out of place and tumbled towards the city, a hole yawning wide in the dome he’d been born and lived under.

He remembers the next lightning strike coming straight through that hole and hitting a building, and the panic tearing up his throat coming loose in a scream as he ran for his parents.  He remembers the gale-force winds trying to pluck him from his mother’s side the following morning and the endless rain pounding the streets, and looking up at his father in something like horror when he said the King was keeping _the worst of the storm at bay._   Floods up to his knees, and that wasn’t the _worst_ of it?

He still doesn’t like thunderstorms, the wild and unchecked power of them.  They make him nervous, especially now that he knows Ramuh sits up there somewhere, knows an Astral actually _is_ hurling those lightning bolts.  He can beat back every MT and infantryman Niflheim sends their way.  He can go toe to toe with the nastiest daemon and still come out swinging.  But against an Astral’s might?  He’s next to useless.  Against forces of nature itself?  He’s powerless.

Noctis doesn’t seem to mind though, eyes touched with the faintest gleam of red as he stares out at the storm beyond their motel room, head resting on Gladio’s chest and fingers tracing lazy patterns across his stomach.  The picture of calm in a world tearing itself apart and… his presence, the magic quietly fizzing away in his blood and tingling on Gladio’s skin with every rumble of thunder… _helps_.  He’s not so uneasy this time.


	12. Chocobos - Ignis/Noctis

The chocobos flock to Noctis as soon as they're free of reigns and saddles, chittering and  _kweh_ -ing at him, wickedly sharp beaks careful as the birds preen at his hair or tug at his clothes or stick them in his pockets in pursuit of the greens he keeps stashed in the Armiger for them.

It's... a sight to witness, Noctis gently swamped in fluffs of golden feathers, quiet laughter muffled in their necks as he takes the time to pat the three eager for a return on their attention.  Noctis relaxes around the birds as he cannot on open ground, as he typically  _won't_ in the company of others.  It makes Ignis's heart hurt in strange little ways, even as he smiles and beckons Noctis over with a crook of his finger, determined to create some pleasant memories with him in the midst of... everything  _else_.

There's no racing to be had, not this day.

Just a stolen peace between them as they ride around the boundary line of the chocobo outpost, Martha sure and steady in her stride despite the second human perched on her back.  Just Noctis leaning into him, relaxed and warm in his arms, head tucked against his shoulder, breath on his throat, eyes closed to everything Ignis sees.  What he'd  _give_ to bring Noctis a decade of this, but an hour or two will just have to do.


	13. Relief - Ignis/Nyx

"It doesn't bother you?"

"Of course not!  It's a relief, actually."

"... Why?"

"Because I'd have to call in a favour and several days' travel from Luna if you were dating a girl and she broke your heart."

_"What?"_

"Don't look so shocked, Specs!  Friends look out for each other, right?  Look, we'll go to an arcade or something tonight.   _You_ enjoy some alone time with whatever lucky devil's caught your eye."

* * *

"You okay, babe?  You seem a bit -"

"Be grateful you're not a woman, Nyx."

"- say what now?"

"You heard."

"I'm missing something here, right?"

" _Noctis_ isn't above calling  _on the Oracle herself_ to exact revenge on my choice in partner if they break my heart, apparently."

"... Well," Nyx says, mouth curling into a slow grin that promises all kinds of wicked things, "lucky for us both that I play for keeps, then."

_"What?"_

He really should just sit down now, shouldn't he?

 


	14. Squirm - Gladio/Ignis

Burying his fingers in Ignis's hair and tugging  _just so,_ and his head will tip back without complaint to receive the kiss Gladio gives, one to his mouth and four more to his face, on each cheek and closed eye.

A passing dance of fingers over his wrist and Ignis's hand will snap out to catch his own, a quick squeeze, the warmth of palm against his too fleeting for comfort and yet treasured all the same.

A nudge with his elbow and Ignis will yield his ground, allow Gladio the lead and defensive stance while sharp eyes mark every foe and seek out their tells, their weaknesses, any old injuries they favour.

A hip-check to unsettle his precise stride, knock him off a stumbling step and bring laughter to his lips as Gladio slings an arm over his shoulder and draws him in closer, drops a kiss to temple and head.

Splaying his hand wide at the small of Ignis's back, a request for contact and Ignis will shift and roll with him, resettle in a different position and eliminate the space between them in the dead of night.  He'll wrap himself around Gladio as much as he's able, his breath warm and steady against shoulder and nape.  Not home outside Insomnia, not really, but it's damn well close.

Stinging nips and a playful bite, and he'll have the delight of green eyes gone dark, Ignis meeting his challenge with head high and blades joining the fray.   _"Yield,"_ he says, and Gladio smirks, dares Ignis to  _make him._

Barely a brush of fingertips up and down unguarded ribs, nails dragging over the sharp cut of his hip bones, laughter pressed to his navel and following the path of teeth and tongue.  Ignis will shiver and arch and moan, claw at the sheets and try to squirm away, such a  _wicked_ game they play.

* * *

He used to know Ignis's body almost as well as his own, all the ways to sneak under his armour and stretch out along the bare bones of him, see the man beneath the mask he wields in service to Noctis.  But that was then, and this is now, and too careless a touch, an old and  _familiar_ touch, will have Ignis flinching and calling on his daggers before he can pause and draw breath and match hand to body to voice to person.

They used to work without second thought, then Altissia happened.


	15. Transit - Prompto/Noctis

_"What do you mean it's been lost in transit?!"_ An outraged bellow that yanks Noctis clean from his doze and dumps him none too nicely on the floor where he proceeds to flail and flap in his confusion, expecting an attack.

What he finds, instead, when he eventually gets his wits about him and clambers back onto the sofa, peers over the back of it... is Prompto.  A very  _angry_ Prompto, if the thunderous scowl on his face is anything to go by, and he looks two seconds shy of hurling his phone out the nearest window.

"What's been lost?"

"Your birthday present!  I ordered it a month in advance and the fuckers have gone and lost it!"

"Can't they just send another one?"

_"There's none left in stock,"_ Prompto hisses, eyes narrowed, and if that isn't the expression of someone about to commit murder, he doesn't know what is.  Noctis pads over to him on quiet footsteps and plonks himself in Prompto's lap like he belongs there (he does) and slings his arms round his neck, meeting his incensed glare until Prompto relents with a mighty sigh and tosses his phone to the table.  A brief moment of panic when it skids across the lacquered surface, but it halts before it can meet its doom on the floor below, and so Noctis returns his full attention to his boyfriend.

"It's not a big deal, Prom.  I don't need any presents."

"Not a big  _deal?_ This is your first birthday with us as -"

_"I don't need any presents,_ when you're the greatest gift of all."  He's tempted to cringe as he says it, wants to claw his way into the ground and never come out again because it's a bit  _too_ loaded with feeling to laugh off, but... momentary discomfort is definitely worth Prompto's mouth popping open and red patches blooming on his face and neck.

"Noct, I -"

"You're all I want, Prompto.  Just you, as you are.  And maybe wrapped up in pretty red ribbon on the big day."

_"Noct!"_


	16. Scars - Prompto/Ignis

"Can I touch you?"  Prompto will ask on a quiet whisper, hovering so close Ignis can feel the heat from his body and smell the mint on his breath.

"Is this okay?"  Prompto will ask once permission is given and he states where his hand will be, where his fingers will touch, to lessen the initial shock to the system and the immediate demand for fight or flight.

"Do you want me to stop?"  Prompto will ask when he squirms under his touch, so gentle and too gently and not nearly enough.  He'll stop if Ignis says so, has done before, but he's so loathe to admit it, doesn't  _want_ him to stop.   _So much has been taken,_ so much has been lost, he doesn't want their relationship to be a casualty, too.

"Do they hurt?"  Prompto will ask, every single time, fingertips following the map of his scars and Ignis will hold his breath for a second or five, so keen to deny, but... he says yes instead, a truth he hates, he hates, he  _hates._

Every minute of every day, phantom flames licking his skin and crackling in his veins, skin sore and body aching from a healing too sudden, too  _forced_ , to ignore.  Pain and pain and  _pain_ that doesn't go away, but Prompto is slow and gentle and careful, keeps almost every touch clear of the magic's ruin.  Almost every one, save for his kisses.

But desire is a different kind of fire, one Ignis willingly breathes in.


	17. Heavy - Gladio/Noctis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning is in place** for canon character death.

The weight of his shield is a daunting thing to pick up and haul around in battle, but he does, he  _must._

Protect the King above all else, above all others, that's the calling of the Amicitia, the badge of honour in his bloodline for generations.

But Noctis is so much more than just the King.  He's a friend, a lover, Gladio's  _heart and soul,_ and there's never been a weight more heavy than taking his body down from the throne.


	18. Gentle - Crowe/Luna

Crowe is a wild woman at heart, all fire and fury and the fight life has tried time and again to beat out of her.  She doesn't bend, she doesn't break, and she rarely kneels.  Not for king, not for comrade, and certainly not for any of the Astrals, no.

Only with Luna, in the relative safety afforded by four walls, will Crowe allow her knees to meet the floor, and Luna will gather her close, hold her tight and whisper soft and gentle in her ear.

"We'll make it through this, dear heart.  I know we will."


	19. Thaw - Luna/Noctis

If Luna was the kiss of summer before he entered the Crystal, all warm light and happier days, she's the brutal chill of winter now.  Soft dresses swapped out for combat gear, gentle words and healing hands exchanged for a feral smile and blood-stained Trident, power crackling at her fingertips to smite all the corrupted souls wandering too close.

She's an Oracle gone to war, a pawn in defiance of the gods, and daemons flee before her, clear the way to the nearest Haven.  Only there, with the warding runes lighting up at the brush of her magic, does he witness the thaw, the cracks breaking wide open in her armour.  Only there does he catch a glimpse of the woman he once knew, as lost and displaced as he, but she's found her feet now, hasn't she?  A hint of that steel in her spine lining the grip she fixes on his shoulders, almost too tight and yet... so grounding.

"Welcome home, Noctis," she says, and he breaks just a little.   _Home_ , never a place, never a building or city or country, but where his heart rests, where he stumbles now, right into her arms.

_"Luna -"_

"You're  _home,_ Noctis.  And you're here to  _stay."_


	20. Soft - Nyx/Luna

Nyx Ulric.  Glaive, warrior, protector.  A sharp-tongued upstart who challenged the Kings of Yore and survived to tell the tale.  Victor against an invading nation’s most formidable general.  A man quick to curse the whims of the Gods, retaliation be damned.

Nyx Ulric, her self-appointed guardian, casually wrestling with her canine messengers like it’s the most normal thing in the world.  And watching him buried under two lumps of yapping fur, Luna realises maybe it is. It _is_ possible to be gentle, and kind, and funny in a world gone mad with war.

Maybe being soft when the world calls for cruelty is the greatest rebellion of all.


	21. Power - Ignis/Noctis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roleswap AU

He is the last of Ignis’s guard standing and he is the last to _fall_ , too many daemons to fight off, too many to hope to run from and yet that’s the advice he calls to his prince anyway.

“Run, Ignis!”  It doesn’t matter the direction, but it’s better than slaughter while they crawl to him on broken limbs.

But Ignis stands tall, proud, _calm_ despite the massacre looming around him and - Noctis pauses.  A second of stillness to admire and wonder, a second too long, one he’ll beat himself up over later.  Ignis raises his hand as slow and steady as an executioner’s blade, the ring on his middle finger glowing that ghastly blue as magic answers his call, rattles the faint sparks of it left in Noctis’s blood.

“No mercy,” he says and those faded eyes of his burn with the power of kings, brilliant red in the night as the air cleaves in two and weapons pour out of the Armiger.

Daemons screech and attempt to flee only to be cut down as they run, and in the ruin of their disintegrating bodies, barely clinging to consciousness, Noctis sees the prince of Insomnia as he was meant for the throne.

Death Incarnate.  Bane of daemon-kind.


	22. Schoolmates - Ignis/Prompto

He first meets Prompto through Noctis, attending the same school as they are.  A quiet boy, uncomfortable in his own skin, so used to teasing and ridicule it made lunch curdle in Ignis's belly.

Then later, through Noctis again.  A reinvention of that boy from years ago, someone leaner and meaner and still a bit shy, but definitely putting himself out there.  No longer content to just be schoolmates, and it shouldn't be a surprise that Noctis becomes fast friends with him.

But Ignis takes one look at Prompto's face, a little pale with plenty of freckles, eyes wide and determined even though his hands squirm at his sides... one look and he feels surprise.  One look and he feels his soul sit up a bit straighter.  One look and a soft-spoken "hello" and Ignis knows he's in trouble.

And when he  _smiles..._

_Oh,_ Ignis thinks,  _oh no._


	23. Escalate - Prompto/Noctis

"You do know it's possible to  _de_ -escalate a situation, right?  You remember that's a lesson they cover in the first week of Crownsguard training, right?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then what the  _fuck_ , Prompto?"

Prompto looks at him, then, face still frozen in seething rage, eyes snapping sparks and mouth twisted into a snarl made all the more vicious for the blood there, the purpling bruise and swelling Noctis hasn't yet managed to calm down.

"That wasn't me defending my prince, Noct.  The fucker'd be dead if it was.  That was a  _warning_ for coming at my boyfriend and making it personal.  The little shitstain gets to live the rest of his life knowing every breath is a gift from  _me_.  He insults you again?  I'll  _end it."_


	24. Phantom - Ignis/Noctis

_Where are you?_   He asks every morning when he wakes, and every night before he sleeps.  _Are you safe?_   He asks with every laboured summon of his daggers, as if there is an insurmountable distance between Noctis and he.  A presence, too, ancient and wrathful, wound tight around the bond between them, attempting to suffocate it.

 _I’m safe_ , says Noctis in his dreams.  _I’m inside the Crystal, Carbuncle’s with me.  I’m safe._

He rises to a cold room and the loud announcement of the early hour by his alarm, so at odds with the unnatural darkness prowling around Lestallum’s borders.

Those words and the phantom press of lips to his, fingers holding tight to his, are Ignis’s only source of strength in a world crumbling at the core.


	25. Jail - Prompto/Noctis

"Your Dad's gonna toss me in _jail_ ," says Prompto, pacing the length of his living room with something wild and _panicked_ in his eyes, restless fingers plucking at his sweater, his rings, the Sabertusk fang dangling from the cord around his neck.

"You're gonna be _fine_ , Prompto.  He'll love you the second he hears you tricked me into eating one whole carrot," says Noctis from his place by the window, a casual glance thrown out every few minutes to spy his father before the doorbell rings and sends Prompto screaming for the hills.  Beyond those glances, however, his gaze remains fixed on his boyfriend and the path he carves through the peace and quiet of a house left to his watch for a fortnight.

"But I'm _dating_ his son.  The Prince of Lucis.  Me!  He's gonna hate me."

That, Noctis decides, is the final straw.  He moves to intercept Prompto as he about turns and skitters back towards the window, hooking his fingers in that over-sized sweater and tugging Prompto close so their noses almost touch and both arms can settle around trim waist.  A place Noctis likes to leave them, whenever he can get away with such casual affection.

"He's gonna love you because _I_ love you, Prom.  There's nothing to worry about."

"But-"

"No buts," Noctis says, firm and absolute, almost an order except for his smile and the twinkle in his eye, and closes what little distance there is to lay a kiss on that downturned mouth.  Then, to the scar on his cheek, and as many freckles as he can before Prompto's laughing and squirming in his hold.

And when the doorbell rings just minutes later, Prompto doesn't run.  And when they remember the lasagne too late and have to order takeout instead, for the King of Lucis of all people, he doesn't panic.

Though he does pull a face when the King turns out to be one of the weirdos who don't like pineapple on their pizza.


	26. Mug - Gladio/Ignis (implied)

“But look, this one is on sale!”

“ _Smartass in charge of this farce?_ You’re not gonna use this mug, Gladio.”

“Fuck no.”

“For a  _special someone,_ then?”

“Shut it, brat.”

Noctis mimes zipping his mouth shut and returns to his noble quest of tracking down a thermos for Prompto to use for his morning runs in _the middle of fucking winter._

* * *

He just about laughs himself sick at the next Council meeting when Ignis storms in a few minutes late looking a smidgen worse for wear, plonks down that very mug, and fixes them all with a glare so frosty it’d make Shiva proud.


	27. Garden - Prompto/Noctis

The bed by his side is empty when he wakes, no magic-scarred arms waiting to gather him close, no sleepy murmur of his name, no lazy kisses to trade until they feel like facing the morning.  There's no answer when he calls his lover's name, either, and that brings him up short, sends a flash of alarm through his veins.  _Where is he?_   And worse - _am I dreaming?_

But this isn't the apartment he kept in that long darkness.  It's the one they picked out together, it's theirs.  There, Noct's favourite chair.  There, two cups left on the table from last night.  There, his jacket.

He tugs on the knot somewhere in his chest, lets the magic unspool through his awareness, bright as fireworks on a cloudless night.  It pulses in time to his heartbeat, flickers with the life of another and he gathers the threads close and tugs again.  A game they used to play when they were younger.

_Where are you?_

An answering chime only minutes later, and he pulls on the clothes he discarded the night before, jams his feet into a pair of flip-flops and sets off in pursuit of his wandering lover, just a smidge pouty.  He hasn't even had his morning brew yet, dammit.

* * *

Noctis has coffee waiting for him, the thoughtful shit, and breakfast, and a sweater to ward off the morning's chill.

"What's the occasion?"  Prompto asks, glancing around the ruins of the garden and the little plots sectioned off for vegetable growth, thinking he's missed a clue somewhere.

"We survived," Noctis replies with a smile, and licks a bit of strawberry jam from the corner of his mouth, much to Prompto's embarrassed squawking.


	28. Kiwi - general

"Kiwi.  The humble fruit.  His most fatal flaw and mortal foe, to sight it is to feel a bone-deep wrath, to smell it to quiver from hair tip to toes in fear of its power, to taste it... a most excruciating death."

A brief scuffle ensues, and much squawking.  Noctis tries and fails to fend off Prompto's insistent grab for the phone.

"What he's saying, Gladio-licious, is that Ignis found out he's allergic to kiwi.  The hard way.  We're in the hospital right now."

_"What?!"_

**Author's Note:**

> My fics can also be [found here](https://scribblesdg.tumblr.com). Microfic requests can also be dropped over there if you don't want to leave them in comments.


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